


Teardrops For You

by hollyblue2



Series: Writing Challenge Entries [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Car Accidents, Character Death, Crying, Cuddling, Dean and Cas holding each other, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Funerals, Grief, Holding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Sadness, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblue2/pseuds/hollyblue2
Summary: The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her.





	Teardrops For You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Writers of Destiel weekly words prompt: 'flowing teardrops'.
> 
> Yes, this is angst; no, neither Dean or Cas die but there's still character death :) It's past midnight, so any mistakes are my own (I was supposed to go to sleep like two hours ago) 
> 
> Beta'd by melitta4ever

* * *

 

 

Dean can't feel anything as the coffin is lowered into the ground. His mind is devoid of all emotion and all he can think is that his best friend has died and he can't shed a tear for her. He's a disgrace.

One glance over at Sam, standing tall next to Eileen as she clings to his side, both of them crying. For a moment he envies Sam’s pain when all he can feel is anger.

Castiel stands next to him, his hand holding Dean’s. It’s tight and uncomfortable but about the only thing he’s felt in days. He’s barely spoken to anyone, only briefly to Charlie’s parents about who was attending her funeral.

He’d been so afraid they’d hate him. After all, the last thing Dean remembers of Charlie is her little yellow bug rolling and crunching, screams of fear and pain as they’d been tossed into a ditch by a semi.

Survivors guilt. That’s what Cas called it. Dean survived, some nasty bruises and a concussion, nothing in comparison to Charlie’s death. It should have been him.

Cas has been great, leaving him in peace when he needs but never being too far away. Cas has been cooking all of their meals which Dean has barely eaten any of, adding to his already guilty conscience.

He’d thrown his plate at the sink yesterday, scaring them both as it shattered, but then Castiel had wrapped him in a long embrace that Dean needed but didn’t want or deserve. He only let it happen because Cas obviously needed it.

The sun shines brightly over them today, feeling inherently wrong for a funeral. Except, this is Charlie, she was nothing but sunshine. The minister says his last words and Charlie’s parents move to lay flowers. Dean strokes the head of the Hermione figurine that belonged to Charlie and gives it one last glance, the bobble head nodding at him. He releases Castiel’s hand, going to the graveside and lets go of the figurine, watching it fall into the grave. It thuds against the wooden lid.

The sound seems to echo in the quiet but Dean knows it’s only in his mind. He stands a moment longer, too long, he realises after Castiel pulls him back to the seating area.

Two groundsmen begin to fill in the hole as most of the small congregation departs. Charlie’s parents head back to the black car they came in and are soon out of sight. Sam and Eileen hover for a few moments and he understands that they want to see if Dean’s alright.

“Dean?”

Dean looks, but he doesn’t answer Sam like his brother wants.

“Eileen and I are heading home. You and Cas come round for dinner, you hear?”

“We’ll be there,” Castiel says for him, but Dean already knows that he won’t be going even if Castiel does.

Sam and Eileen disappear then, leaving Dean and Castiel as the only ones at Charlie’s graveside.

She’s not coming back.

A hand against his chest, slipping under his jacket to the dark shirt he’s wearing underneath, drags a warmth to him that he hasn’t felt in hours, despite the warm sun on their backs.

Castiel takes them home.

***

They both shed their funeral clothes, and Dean changes into a pair of pyjama pants and automatically slides into bed despite the fact it’s barely afternoon. He won’t sleep, he knows, but maybe he can rest.

Castiel doesn’t join him, and the bed feels huge without his presence, so he settles for pulling Castiel’s pillow to his chest and clutching it against him. It doesn’t feel any better but he has something to hold on to.

He remembers nights as a teen with Charlie in his bed—only after his parents had gone to sleep. They’d always been separated, Charlie in the guest room and Dean in his own double bed until Charlie came in with the new Batman comic and a torch. They’d hide under the covers until the early hours until they fell asleep together. Dean’s parents eventually gave up trying to keep them apart, finding it more hassle than it was worth.

He remembers Charlie meeting Castiel for the first time, a month after they'd started dating, and how enthusiastic she’d been. She’d practically forced Castiel into being a hugger and Dean doesn’t regret that for a moment. Charlie gives the best hugs, and Castiel has taken in all she has taught him.

Dean’s mouth quirks the smallest amount as he begins to nod off under the warmth of the covers. As soon as his eyes shut the nightmares come, waging war on his sleep.

_ “Charlie! Charlie!” he can barely hear his own voice above the sound of everything else. Metal crunching and car tumbling into the roadside ditch. _

_ Charlie doesn’t answer him. _

_ “Charlie!” he tries again. _

_ “Dean?” the voice is small, scared and never before has he seen this side of Charlie. Dean does his best to move, held in awkwardly by his seat belt. _

_ He finds Charlie, bloody, eyes wide and clearly in a lot of pain. _

_ “It’s okay Charlie,” Dean assures her. _

_ A shooting pain rings out through his head and Dean’s vision swims. He thinks he hears Charlie’s voice one last time before he’s rendered unconscious. _

_ “I know.” _

Dean wakes up. His pillow is wet beneath his face and that sets loose the floodgates. He clutches the pillow hard until his hands ache and he cries silently, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. It must be ugly,  not that he cares. His best friend is dead. She didn’t even make it to the hospital. 

Dean sits up, looking around him unsure how to handle himself. His hands feel useless. They grab onto anything and in his distress, they go to his head and pull at the short hairs until he can feel that instead of the pounding in his head.

He lets out a loud sob, unbidden, and suddenly Castiel is at the door, looking more concerned than before. As soon as their eyes meet, Castiel takes the few steps towards the bed and then pulls him into a hug.

He’s being cradled like a child and he grabs onto the back of Castiel’s shirt.

“I lost her,” Dean cries, hiccuping and leaving tear marks on Castiel’s shirt. “She’s gone, Cas, she gone.”

“I know.” Dean wishes he wouldn’t say those words but it’s Dean’s fault for keeping everything quiet. Dean knows Cas is crying too because all of this hurts. She was his friend too.

They hold each other for a long time, Dean curled up in Cas’ lap for most of it before weariness takes over them. Dean swaps the pillows out for one that isn’t tear soaked and lets Cas spoon him.

Teardrops fall onto Dean's shoulder and then tiny kisses as if to try and hide the tears. “Everything’s going to be okay,” Cas whispers and Dean tries his best to believe it.

It’s going to take a while, he knows that. He isn’t going to magically feel better tomorrow now that she’s buried, but he can work on it – they can work on it. Hand in hand if they need to, rely on one another and keep moving forward.

Dean sighs loudly, breath shuddering as his tears finally dry up.

“Maybe not tomorrow, but I’m finally going to hang that photo of us camping last year in the hallway,” Dean breathes.

Cas’ arms tighten around him, enveloping him in love and warmth.

“I’d really like that too. I’ll stand and watch, make sure it’s straight,” Castiel tells him, voice a little stronger.

“I don’t think you get the vote on straight,” Dean jibes and it feels good, the weight in his heart lessens as he forgets for just mere moments. 

“Don’t be so rude.” Castiel nips Dean’s shoulder then presses a kiss moments afterwards.

Dean turns over, slotting his legs between Castiel’s so they can still be close.

“Have you seen the shelf in the kitchen? The first thing...” Dean swallows, the pain rushing back all too soon. A tear slips from his eye and Castiel wipes it away. “The first thing Charlie said when she saw it was that it was wonky.”

“I call it rustic.”

Dean kisses Castiel’s nose and watches as he scrunches his face up with a smile, then Castiel returns the favour.

***  


The canvas photograph that goes up two days later is brightly coloured between Charlie’s red hair and pink shirt, Jo’s yellow vest top and Meg’s purple hoodie. Cas and Dean are both wearing sunglasses and grinning at each other. Eileen is on Sam’s back to one side, just making it into the shot when the picture was taken and they look happy.

They all look happy.

And even though Charlie’s gone, Dean and Cas, hand in hand, will go back to that spot and make new memories. Charlie had even boasted that the secluded hillside had the perfect view for a wedding.

They’ll make it. For Charlie.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry (sorta) but the angst just kinda happened :) 
> 
> I hope, despite all the tears in this ficlet, you still enjoyed!


End file.
